human hands
were made to be held.

the bleak reality
of that fact
is your hand will fit
just as perfectly in hers
as you used to say
it fit in mine.

The moon has turned his dark on me.
But I still beg to use his pale eyes
fetching the last glimpses of desire.
And even if you no longer care for
my morning kisses on your thighs
and my moonlight caresses in the night.
I still need to feel
the thrumming harmony
of you slipping inside my shields.
How deeply you’ve plunged into
the inner core of me.
Perfect fit and yet
a distant hologram of
a lover held in my dreams alone.

I’ll never be fulfilled.
unless I forget your splendor.
You shine, like no other.
Your bright was my ultimate high.
And within all my incapable
and impotent denial.
I did try to rub away
the golden fingerprints of you.
But now I’ve come to despair
that they will ever disappear.

I shed tears of moonlight
for every sin
I have yet to commit.

Do you think the moon
loves the sun,
anymore,
than his thousand
mistresses of stars?

People admire the skies above them,
yet find it hard to love their rainy days.
For it's not easy to love something where
no light can be found.

And I can't help but wonder
if people think the same of me—
Am I only lovable on days when
I can offer clear skies?

-k.w//The Rain & I

He repeated the words
"No one will ever love you"
so many times
that I started to believe him,

and I'm in need of constant
reassurance that I'm safe
because everything he did
plays on repeat in my head,
and I feel as if
I never really escaped it at all.

I got so used to
holding my breath in his presence,
I don't think he noticed me
fading away.

-k.w//Fading